Page 45 of Genevieve

“You aren’t worried?”

“Nope. Whatever he plans will be perfect.” What the fuck is going on this morning?

“What?”

“Baby, you’re saying that a lot today.” When did she become such a comedian?

“GET OUT HERE! NO RUNNING, SO IGNORE MY WIFE.” Abel yells from the other room.

“Busted.” Dylan leaves us alone again.

“Ready to face the music?” Miya puts her cup in the sink, and I grab my coffee cup.

“With you by my side, absolutely.” She extends her hand to me, and we walk into the common room.

Everyone claps, and we get congratulations all around.

“Sorry to dampen the mood, but we should start getting ready.” Eagle’s voice sounds guilty for reminding us of the time.

* * *

Miya

I pullthe velcro thigh holster tighter on Genevieve. It’s holding two of my knives since her dress imprints the gun she tried a few moments ago.

“Knock, knock,” Abel says from the doorway.

I flip the skirt of Genny’s yellow dress closed and stand up straight. I expect a smart-ass remark for finding me basically in my woman’s crotch, but he refrains. His jaw is twitching but not from humor.

“Somethings wrong.” I step toward him, and he shakes his head.

“Unexpected, not wrong.” Abel doesn’t work well with curve balls.

“Is the plan compromised?” He shakes his head.

“Sorry, no, this has nothing to do with the plan.” He doesn’t elaborate further, so I let it go figuring it’s personal.

“Ready, baby?” I turn to Genny and take her hand.

“Let’s cut the head off this snake.” She holds the smile she gives me then until we arrive outside the Metropolitan Gallery of Art, where Anton is holding his ball.

All the signs that generally advertise the exhibits now show photos of Anton and his wife with the words ‘VOTE 2022’ on them. The couple poses as if they are happily in love and the next best thing for America since the Kennedys.

“Ain’t that cute,” Abel swears at the signage.

“Let’s get this over with.” Genny shakes herself, and when she’s ready to go, she’s looking like a hungry shark.

It’s the same look she gets when she’s going to annihilate someone in the courtroom.

“Judge, stick to the script. Do not stray from the podium. Eagle and Pinky will have you covered. When he makes his move, do not engage. Let us do all the work. Got it?” Abel stresses the last part, which Genny doesn’t look too happy about, but she finally agrees.

We walk in and find our reserved table right up front of the stage and sit listening to all the bullshit before the real show begins. It takes two hours of people talking about how great, honorable and perfect Anton Blair is for President before the man himself even shows his face.

His guests have eaten, laughed, and cheered for him all while he watched from somewhere else. If that’s the type of person they want as a leader, this country is screwed. And that’s before they know how he steals, rapes, and sells women and children.

“We would like to give thanks to our top contributors this evening. Their personal donations sum up over sixty percent of the campaign. So it’s not a jest when I say we wouldn’t be here tonight without them. So Anton would like to thank them personally and welcome them on stage to officially give their endorsement for his candidacy.” Derek, Anton’s manager, says as the crowd here cheers.

“Lights, camera, action,” Abel whispers as the first of three is called.

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